


Like Sunshine on a Rainy Day

by Kurosaki224



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Are Siblings, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Derek Hale Has a Bad Day, Laura Hale is not here physically but spiritually she is watching all this happen and cackling, M/M, Socially Awkward Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski's Eyes, also, because they are gorgeous enough to earn their own tag, but it gets better, but the precious bean is getting better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurosaki224/pseuds/Kurosaki224
Summary: Derek has had a very long day. And now it's raining. Still a long ways from home, he ducks into a bookshop for refuge from the storm and is abruptly introduced to a young man with gorgeous eyes - and a sharp tongue.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 163





	Like Sunshine on a Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time writing Derek and Stiles, despite loving and reading about them for many years now. It was written for a school assignment, and I'm still considering revising a few parts, but overall I'm really happy to finally share this with you all!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Derek stopped walking with a groan as he felt the first drop of rain. The sky had been a stormy grey all afternoon, but the deluge had surprisingly held off for several hours – just long enough to give Derek the hope he could make it home from work without getting drenched. So much for that idea; he still had a good twenty minute walk standing between him and his apartment building. Normally Derek didn’t mind the long walk – it gave him time to think, to get some exercise, and to enjoy the fresh air. Well, air as fresh as was possible in the city. And actually, Derek secretly loved it. His sister thought he was crazy though, walking to and from work every day, and she never passed up an opportunity to tease him about being a slower Forrest Gump who refused to get a cab. But Laura teased him for a lot of things, and Derek had learned long ago to simply roll his eyes and move on.

Today, however, had been a very long day, and Derek was looking forward to just collapsing on the couch with a good book. Tilting his head back, he stared tiredly at the now thundering sky.

“Really?” he asked the treacherous storm clouds.

A raindrop hit Derek square in the eye.

He swore softly and swiped at the water. Heaving a sigh Derek resigned himself to sheltering somewhere until the worst of the growing downpour had passed. He took a moment to really look around the street he was on for the first time. It was a smaller side street that cut a few blocks off of his commute, one Derek rarely paid attention to past the bakery on the corner where he turned. A few doors down from him was a Starbucks, though, and the thought of a nice steaming cup of coffee and a quiet café atmosphere to ride out the rain had him striding purposefully toward the glass doors in seconds.

It seemed like everyone else had the same idea as Derek however, because the second he stepped inside he was overwhelmed by a barrage of loud complaining voices, and was barely able to squeeze past a large group just inside the doorway. The Starbucks was _packed._

All at once thankful for his tall stature, Derek peered over the throng of people waiting in line to be served, but to his dismay every seat he could see was already taken. One lanky kid was even using a trashcan as a seat in the back corner. There would be no refuge for him here – there was barely any open space to stand.

Derek growled in frustration and turned back toward the entrance, a few people quickly jumping out of his way when they saw the stormy look on his face. A stormy look to match the stormy day, they thought to themselves, as they watched Derek practically stomp out of the coffee house.

Back out in the now pouring rain, Derek looked up and down the street again, assessing his options – there was an antique store (no), a real estate office (double no), and no less than three ladies clothing boutiques (three, really?) in the immediate vicinity. Craning his neck to see further away, his eyes landed on a small store on the other side of the street, tucked in between a dry cleaners and a painter’s studio. Derek couldn’t read the faded sign at his distance, but it appeared to have a painting of a book on it – a bookshop. Perfect.

Holding on tight to his messenger bag, he ran over to the bookshop as quickly as he could without slipping on a newly formed puddle. Derek only gave a cursory glance at the sign to make sure it truly was a bookshop – it was – before bursting through the old blue door into the dry safe haven.

He hurriedly closed the door behind him, and stood in the entry way for a moment, wiping water from his eyes for the second time that afternoon. Eyes finally cleared again, Derek looked up at the bookshelves with a sigh, and then down at his sopping wet form with a grimace. He was reluctant to go any further in his current state, as he was quite literally dripping, so he began trying to shake some of the water off, but after a couple seconds an indignant voice halted his movements.

“Hey! Careful where you’re shaking there, big guy!” the voice protested from Derek’s right.

“Ah, sorry,” Derek said, turning toward the voice. “I didn’t mean to…”

He trailed off as he caught sight of the young man who had spoken, seated at a small table near the window, and wiping water off the tabletop in front of him. The guy was tall, that much was obvious from his long legs sprawled out haphazardly in the small space. He was probably almost as tall as Derek when standing, but on the leaner side. Light freckled skin was peeking out from underneath his shirt, a graphic tee with Yoda’s face on it reading, “My Yoda shirt, this is.” But the young man’s eyes were what really commanded Derek’s attention – they were a beautiful chestnut brown, reminding Derek of a glass of whiskey caught up in a sunbeam.

And those eyes were staring at him expectantly.

“Uh…” Derek said intelligently.

“You didn’t mean to ‘uh’?” the guy asked, raising both eyebrows challengingly. “Did you mean, ‘I didn’t mean to get water all over the book this innocent young gentleman was reading’?” he said, holding up a now somewhat damp copy of _The Hobbit._

Derek winced.

“Or maybe,” the man continued, “you meant ‘I didn’t mean to blow through the front door so dramatically that the hinges might need looking at?’” He gestured at the old door behind Derek, which upon closer inspection did appear to be in rather shabby condition, paint peeling with rusty and flaking hinges. That certainly wasn’t Derek’s responsibility, but he hadn’t been very careful as he entered either.

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if he should try to make his case or just leave. He could probably find another quiet place to hunker down for a while if necessary. Probably.

Thunder rumbled outside ominously.

The guy was still talking. “Maybe even,” he continued, undeterred, “‘I didn’t mean to stop talking in the middle of my sentence, forcing innocent strangers to resort to guessing where my brain is at, since I clearly don’t have it in my head right now.’ Maybe that’s it.”

Derek decided he was doomed to wander the rainy streets forever.

He gave the young man a tight smile and was turning to leave, already bracing himself for the rain, when a new voice piped up from the other side of the store.

“Stiles, leave the poor guy alone. It’s pouring outside!” a young woman said with an exasperated air as she walked over from the check-out counter. “It’s a miracle we have any customers at all with you harassing anyone who comes in the door.” She shook her head, wavy brown hair tickling her shoulders as she did so. She stopped in front of Derek.

Giving him an apologetic smile, she said, “Sorry about him. He’s just cranky because he’s got no one to annoy but me today.” She rolled her eyes good naturedly.

Stiles stuck out his tongue at her.

She ignored him.

Sweeping an arm toward the rows of bookcases behind her, she kept speaking to Derek. “Anyway, welcome to Claudia’s! We’re proud to offer an incredibly diverse collection of books despite our small location, and we even have a special section just for antique and hard to find classics,” she said, pointing to small bookcase built into the leftmost wall of the shop.

Then she directed Derek to the other side of the store. “There’s also a little coffee bar right over there, behind Stiles –” She pointed again, this time to the rightmost wall where Derek now noticed a small self-serve coffee station behind three wooden tables, Stiles grumbling to himself at the nearest one. “–and coffee is free with the purchase of any book!” she finished him with a smile. “Is there anything I can help you find today, or do you just want to browse for a bit?”

Derek finally managed to get his mouth working again.

“I’m, uh, just browsing. Thanks though,” he added quickly.

The woman nodded, seeming to expect as much. “That’s alright. Well, if you need anything, my name is Allison and I’ll be over in that far aisle doing some re-shelving.” She gave Derek another smile before turning back to Stiles. “And you,” she said with a commanding finger pointed in his direction, “_Behave._”

Stiles feigned an innocent look, lifting a hand delicately to his chest. “Who, me?”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

After a brief staring contest, Stiles gave in with a hand wave and a grudging, “Alright. You’re no fun.”

Satisfied, Allison relaxed and turned back to Derek. “Enjoy!” And then with a swift spin of her heels, she marched away, her small form soon disappearing behind the shelves. Quiet fell over the store.

Derek glanced over at Stiles, uncertainly shifting his weight. His wet shoes squelched loudly in the silence. A few moments passed, and Derek realized that Stiles was apparently waiting to see what he would do. He should really say something. Derek cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he began, searching for the appropriate thing to say – something that was proving difficult with Stiles staring at him. “I didn’t see you there before. I mean, I did,” he amended. “Uh, but not until after I had already gotten you all wet.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Which I’m sorry for,” Derek reiterated. “I just, uh, didn’t want to drip all over the books, you know.”

The other eyebrow rose.

“That would be…bad. So. I tried to dry off here. And it, uh, didn’t work very well,” he ended with an awkward shrug. As soon as he finished, Derek closed his eyes and silently begged for rescue. In his twenty-some years of botched conversations and uncomfortable apologies, Derek thought this one might just be the worst. And it’d barely been ten minutes since he walked into the bookshop.

Derek really hated the rain.

But somehow, miraculously, his stilted apology seemed to satisfy Stiles.

“Hey man, I forgive you,” he said with a dismissive flip of a hand. “It’s just one of those days where all the little things are going wrong, you know? I may have been a little harsh–”

Allison’s incredulous voice cuts him off from across the store, “A _little_ harsh?”

Without missing a beat Stiles fires back, “Eavesdropping is unprofessional, sis!” Then he turned back to Derek and gave him a wry smile. “Maybe _slightly_ more harsh than was necessary. But to be fair, this is one of my favorite books,” he said, giving his well-loved paperback a tap.

“That’s understandable,” Derek replied. “It’s a good one.”

Stiles’ eyes widened a bit with surprise, and he smiled. “Someone who respects the classics – I approve,” he declared, nodding appreciatively at Derek, whose lips quirked up of their own accord. “Anyway, you wanna grab a seat and dry off?” Stiles asked. “There’s napkins over there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the small coffee station Allison had pointed out.

Derek sagged with relief. “That would be great,” he admitted, finally moving from the entryway. “Thanks.”

He walked over and grabbed a wad of napkins and tossed them onto the table next to Stiles’. After wrestling his damp messenger bag strap over his head, Derek peeled his blazer off and hung both items over the back of a chair, which he then promptly dropped into with groan. Grabbing a couple of napkins from his stack, he braced both elbows on the table and pressed his damp face into them with a sigh.

Derek could hear the amusement in Stiles’ voice when he spoke. “Rough day for you too, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Derek muttered.

“That sucks, man. Sorry I snapped at you,” Stiles said sympathetically.

“It happens.”

Stiles’ voice perked up. “But on the bright side,” he began dramatically, causing Derek to lift his head from its napkin cradle, “you are now in a most _magical_ place of literary wonder and paginated happiness!” Stiles spread his arms with a flourish, narrowly avoiding a collision with one of the empty chairs at the other table.

Derek deadpanned. “‘Paginated happiness?’”

Stiles’ grin didn’t falter for a second. “Yeah, man. Paginated happiness. Never underestimate the power of the written word, my friend. Words can make you laugh, they can make you cry…” he held up a finger to Derek, an edge of mischief appearing in his grin as he continued, “…they let you imagine a world where your sister actually gets her own life for once instead of listening in on mine…”

A series of muted thumps echoed from the aisle Allison had disappeared into, and suddenly a book toppled into view, coming to rest right in front of the checkout counter.

Stiles fist pumped silently in victory.

Derek hid a smile behind his napkins.

“See?” Stiles went on proudly, “Books can do so many things.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Derek told him, looking back at Stiles again. “I’m a research assistant at a university, and there are many books – or the lack thereof – that have made me cry,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth. “And,” he continued, starting to perk up himself, “the ancient Romans recognized the power that written words could hold. They would inscribe curses into lead tablets and bury them in the ground to try and harness that energy to curse their neighbors,” Derek finished, pleased to have an opportunity to share one of his favorite research topics.

Stiles’ jaw dropped. After a few gob smacked seconds, he recovered his ability to speak and exclaimed, “Dude, that is _so cool!_ What the–” he floundered, hands flailing and apparently searching for the right words to properly express his reaction. Derek leaned back slightly. A couple seconds passed, but all Stiles eventually said was, “That is just _awesome!_ You get to go into work every day and read about people cursing each other in stone? Dude, that is so _unbelievably cool_,” Stiles gushed.

Derek ducked his head, self-conscious but happy that someone else shared his interest in the topic. “Yeah, uh,” he started, swallowing, “I think it’s pretty cool too. It’s a really interesting look into the mindset of ancient Romans who weren’t involved in the government – because you know we have a lot of political writings left from politicians, but curse tablets are a different source. Kind of a new angle,” Derek said with a small hand wave. “Although,” he added, “I think the real curse might have been that they were burying lead on other people’s property. Not a great idea.”

At that statement Stiles let out a laugh and rolled his head back. “No, that would not be a good idea, for sure.” He chuckled and looked back at Derek. “The more you know, huh?”

“Yeah,” Derek said softly, meeting Stiles’ eyes again.

They really were beautiful, Derek couldn’t help but notice again. And now they were shining with mirth. Stiles eyes seemed to brighten up the cozy little corner, the whole bookshop, even the stormy world beyond the shop’s foggy window panes. Derek bet that Stiles’ eyes could hypnotize if he were so inclined. How anyone could look away from them was beyond him.

Coming back to himself with a start, and realizing he was likely about get caught staring again, Derek coughed and wrenched his gaze away from Stiles, cheeks warming.

He glanced around the little bookshop – “Claudia’s,” Allison had called it – noting the unusual sorting system they seemed to have. Rather than the typical signs denoting “Young Adult Fiction,” “Adult Fiction,” “Adult Romance,” “Nonfiction,” and so on, Claudia’s was filled with categories such as “Soft and Simple,” “Rollercoaster Thrills,” and “Stranger than Fiction.” There was even one particularly colorful sign reading “Impligaytions.” That one made Derek snort.

Stiles let him observe the shop for a moment, and spoke up when he noticed Derek’s reaction to the sorting system. “Unorthodox, I know. It makes finding a specific book difficult sometimes, but you get used it.” Stiles’ voice was fond, and Derek returned his attention to the bright young man beside him. “That’s half the fun of shopping here, anyways – it ends up being a treasure hunt every time.”

Derek nodded in understanding. There were few things he enjoyed more than “bookhunting,” as Laura called it. He would peruse bookshelves for hours, dipping in and out of the paper-bound worlds until he found the perfect one to sink into for a while. Finding the right book at the right time felt more amazing and special than anything else – it was definitely a treasure, as Stiles had put it.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Derek said, observing Stiles quietly.

“I am indeed,” Stiles replied with a sage nod.

“So, you come here often?” Derek asked, the words slipping out before he could stop himself.

He froze as his brain caught up. His ears started burning with embarrassment.

Stiles eyes widened and he was utterly silent for a solid second before he burst into surprised laughter, soon grabbing hold of the table with one hand to avoid falling over with the force of his amusement.

Derek prayed to any deity that was listening for the floor to swallow him whole.

“Well,” Stiles managed to choke out after a few moments, trying desperately to regain his composure, “I work here. So I think I have to say yes,” he said, succumbing to another peal of laughter.

That wasn’t at all the response Derek was expecting. As it sunk in, he started laughing at the turn of events despite himself, ears still burning red. A few minutes later Allison found them both gasping for breath as they attempted to recover from their laughing fits. Taking one look at the boneless pair, she rolled her eyes skyward, silently asking for patience. She told Stiles she was taking a break, and immediately retreated to the very back of the store. They heard a door open and close, and finally the pair began to calm down.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Stiles sat back upright in his chair again and spoke for the first time in several minutes. “I’m sorry for laughing so hard man, I just – that was too funny,” he said breathlessly. “I mean, I guess I don’t really dress like I’m on the job, do I?” He gestured at his Star Wars t-shirt and converse sneakers and laughed again. “How were you supposed to know?”

Still embarrassed, but finally relaxing after the laughing fit and at the fact that Stiles didn’t seem to be offended, Derek let himself smile at Stiles’ statement. “Not really, no,” he replied with another laugh. “That is a fair point I will use in my defense,” Derek said, raising his hands in playful mock-surrender.

Stiles grinned at Derek and shook his head happily. “That just made my whole day, man. Thank you. I really needed that.”

Derek returned his smile and nodded softly. “Yeah, I think I did too. You’re welcome.”

They looked at each other for a few moments, enjoying the light feeling that had come over them, before Stiles spoke up once more.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski, by the way,” he said, holding out a welcoming hand.

Derek didn’t even hesitate.

“I’m Derek,” he said, taking Stiles’ hand warmly. "Derek Hale.”


End file.
